


I Honestly Do

by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott, Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Masturbation, Mind Sex, Mutual Masturbation, PWP, Stiles and Peter just want to smash but the magic won't let them, because of course it is, but like weirder, it's gotta be something, kind of, not quite right but close enough I guess, oh look that's a tag, rude ass witch is a fucking cockblock even after dying, tbh I'm not even sure how to classify what kind of kink this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyofthekids/pseuds/twothumbsandnostakeincanon
Summary: Peter and Stiles get tagged by a curse that leaves them unable to touch.At all.Not even their dicks.





	I Honestly Do

**Author's Note:**

> Who else wants porn on this horny, horny evening?? 
> 
> I mean, it's a horny evening for me. Probably for you too if you're going to read this. Or I don't know, maybe you read your erotica academically, that's cool, you do you.

When the fight with the witch was over, Stiles felt pretty shitty. 

It was understandable. He’d used a ton of magic and definitely sprained his right ankle, and apparently something had happened to his shoulder too because it was burning like hellfire. 

His number one concern was for his boyfriend, though. He glanced around the warehouse and saw Peter setting a lighter to some wolfsbane. Just as he grimaced and shoved it into the open wound on his shoulder, Stiles’ pain flared as well. 

After a moment of them both panting in agony, Peter looked up and found his mate. He tried to get to his feet and his right leg crumbled under him, mouth dropping open in surprise. 

Peter looked down at his foot and then back up, and from six yards away Stiles’ eyes narrowed, his mind making one of it’s familiar leaps in logic. He picked a relatively unbruised portion of his thigh and pinched. Across the room, Peter yelped. 

They looked at each other in shock, silent for a moment. 

“Oh my god, we have to go have sex immediately,” Stiles suddenly blurted. 

“What the fuck, dude!” Scott exclaimed as he helped Isaac up. “Keep your post-fight routines to yourself!” 

Peter rolled his eyes and got up more carefully, limping over to his boyfriend. 

“It would appear that our dear witch friend managed to get in one last spell,” he said, grimacing as he slowly made his way over. “I seem to be feeling Stiles’ sprained ankle-”

“-And I’m pretty sure I just felt the wolfsbane he had to burn out,” Stiles added.

Scott looked confused. “Well then why- ohhhhh. Stiles!” he reprimanded. “You need to get checked out by Deaton first! What if the spell did something else too? Keep it in your pants for at least another thirty minutes, dude.”

Stiles looked disgruntled from where he sat on the floor. “I’m the one who just blew up the witch,” he grumbled as Peter reached out a hand to help him up. “If I want to get fucked into next Tuesday, then I deserve-” he grabbed onto Peter, and the next thing he knew he was waking up in Deaton’s back office with a massive headache. 

Peter sat next to him, looking kind of awful and massaging his own temple. As soon as he noticed Stiles was awake, he reached out for him only to snatch his hand back before making contact. 

“It’s incredibly distasteful to admit, but Scott was right. There’s more to the spell,” he sighed.

Stiles tried to sit up, but only made it part way before slumping back. 

“How long have you been awake?” he asked Peter. 

“I woke up about five minutes after we passed out the first time-”

“The  _ first time? _ ”

“-while we were still at the warehouse. I didn’t realize what had happened, so I tried to pick you up again, and,” he gestured vaguely around them. “Something happens when we touch. I expect it’s like a short circuit between your magic spark and my werewolf spark, enabled by the spell.”

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked anxiously. 

Peter nodded. “It doesn’t seem to affect my healing rate, just how I experience sensation. Namely your sensation, for however long it lasts.” He brought his hand back up to his temple and rubbed again. Stiles could feel the pressure relief in his own head. 

Deaton walked in then with a glass of water and a few painkillers. As he handed them over to Stiles, he said “It’s an old spell. Not used much anymore, but it was very much in vogue during the days of dueling, mostly because it’s one of the few spells that continues to work after the caster’s death.”

Stiles paled. 

“What are we going to do?!” he asked, panicked. He absolutely could not go the rest of his life without touching Peter. No more late night cuddling, no more hugs before work, no more kisses in the kitchen, no more  _ dick sucking- _

“It only lasts about three days,” Deaton said, patting him consolingly. Peter glared at the hand, failing to suppress a jealous growl. Deaton quickly snatched his hand back and cleared his throat. “The magic will fade around the time the bloat stage of decomposition starts-”

Stiles gagged, and had to put in real effort to hold down the pills he’d just taken. Deaton cleared his throat again. 

“-but maybe we can talk about that when you’re feeling better,” he said hastily. “I wrapped your ankle while you were unconscious. Keep it elevated and alternate ice and heat for the next couple of days, you know the drill. You two can leave whenever you feel ready, Stiles.” He beat a quick retreat and shut the door behind him. 

Stiles looked at Peter. He ached to touch him- or he supposed that could have been the dozen bruises. 

No, he definitely ached to touch him. Peter looked so heart broken. Stiles was pretty sure they hadn’t gone more than twelve hours without touching since they started dating two years ago. He tried to pull on a brave smile. 

“Three days. That’s not a lot, really. It takes longer to make a sourdough starter. It’s not even a full workweek. It’ll just make it so much better when we’re finally allowed again” he said encouragingly. “We can go three days with touching.”

 

____________________

 

They could not go three days without touching. 

By the next evening, they had just barely pulled themselves back at least two dozen times, consistently forgetting before suddenly remembering with a pit in their stomachs. 

Peter had built a protective wall of pillows between them in bed the night before. Stiles glared at it until the Ambien kicked in, and in the morning stole one of them to whack Peter when he realized that it wasn’t his own full bladder that had woken him up. 

Around all of the sadness and grumpiness, the dual sensations were extremely distracting. Stiles could feel the books Peter handled at his desk, and Peter noticed when Stiles’ pain killers were wearing off before he did. 

But perhaps worst of all, Scott hadn’t exactly been wrong about their… post-fight routine. 

They usually did come home after taking care of whatever asshole had come into Beacon Hills that month, and have a nice life-affirming fuck. And then another in the morning. And they usually hung around the apartment resting together for a couple of days afterward- it would just be a waste if they didn’t get in a few extra Handy-J’s.

Listen, Stiles would dare anyone to date someone as beautiful as Peter and not be at least a little obsessed with sex, okay? 

And Peter simply hadn’t ever even thought of keeping his hands to himself once he found out that Stiles wanted them on him. 

So this was a  _ struggle.  _

That night, Stiles wrapped himself in an extra sheet instead of having The Great Pillow Divide cut off his favorite view. It worked well at first. Peter could even touch the sheet over his skin and feel the warmth of his mate.

But eventually, Stiles’ Stilesness caught up with him and his squirming got his legs trapped in the sheet. As he fidgeted around, trying to untangle himself, he accidentally kind of… rubbed up against the mattress. He moaned, and then did it again more deliberately. 

Peter looked over with a strained expression, trying to ignore the sensation in his own pajama pants. “Are you humping the bed?” he asked, both incredulous and in agony over the fact that he couldn’t say  _ -when you could be humping me? _

Stiles gave a frustrated huff. “We normally would have had at least five orgasms between us by this point, Peter. It’s not going to take a lot to set me off.” He finally freed his legs and flipped over, staring at the ceiling with a huge frown. 

Peter looked over at his beautiful mate, and tapped his lips in frustration. Stiles brought his hand up to his own lips to ghost over the sensation. 

The lightbulb went on in Peter’s head.

After all, hadn’t Stiles’ very first idea been sex? 

Just because they couldn’t touch each other didn’t mean they couldn’t feel each other. 

Peter smirked as he yanked off his shirt and Stiles looked over curiously. Peter closed his eyes and ran a hand over his chest, pinching one of his nipples. It didn’t actually do much for him, but for Stiles… 

Peter’s smirk grew wider as Stiles gasped, and said  _ “Oh.” _

Stiles frantically struggled out of his own shirt, Peter sneezing when the collar caught on Stiles’ nose. The pants went next, which had to go a little more carefully due to his ankle, but soon enough he was ready and eager to participate in the festivities. 

They wound up with Stiles laying on his back, sheet covering his bottom half, and Peter straddled across his thighs, keeping his hands well clear of Stiles’ torso. 

Peter gave a smug look to Stiles and flicked out his claws, setting his hand on his knee. Stiles sucked in a little breath and waited. 

Peter lightly dragged sharp claws up his inner thigh, leaving red marks that faded as quickly as they appeared. Stiles felt the bite and heat on the soft skin of his own inner thigh, and shivered as the sting immediately disappeared. 

Peter repeated the action with both hands up his thighs, retracting his claws and running the smooth pads of his fingers through the crease of his thighs before moving down and giving his cock a firm stroke with one hand and gently tugging his balls with the other.

“Holy  _ shit,” _ Stiles panted. “Oh my god, Peter.” 

The sheet was tented obscenely at his waist. He reached a hand under to grip himself and stroke along with Peter, only for Peter to say “Ah ah ah, I’m the one touching you, remember?” 

Stiles looked up at him skeptically. 

“In a manner of speaking,” Peter amended, the corner of his mouth turned up. 

Willing to play along for now, Stiles removed his hand and gripped the sheet instead. 

Peter let go of his cock as well, with only a slight whimper from Stiles, and leaned over to his nightstand, going up on one knee. 

“I can’t believe you’d tease me this way,” Stiles said behind him, mournful.

Peter looked over his shoulder to see Stiles staring at his ass, hand a few inches away from touching. 

Peter smirked as he sat back on Stiles’ thighs, holding the lube. 

“It’s only a half tease, really.” 

To prove it, he slicked up two fingers and brought them back to open himself up. 

Stiles gasped the moment he felt it. Peter and Stiles were both versatile, but Peter had been on a bottoming kick lately. Stiles didn’t mind, because pretty much any sex with Peter was amazing sex, but good god he’d forgotten just how  _ incredible _ it felt. 

The quickly warming slick intrusion, first just stretching, and then  _ filling. _ Peter tended to want his prep a little quicker, a little rougher, but he was clearly taking Stiles’ preferences into account because he moved agonizingly slow. 

He’d started with just one finger, thick and curving, reaching inside to light up the nerves. Stiles could feel things loosen quickly, a consequence of Peter’s recent preference, and it was at odds with what he would have experienced if he were actually doing this to himself. 

The first finger lingered, tugging slightly at his rim before the second joined. There was a slight stretch, just enough to feel, as Peter pushed two in. 

Peter was watching Stiles’ expression closely, looking for those micro expressions that told him exactly what Stiles was thinking. Being able to feel exactly what it was that Stiles’ brain was interpreting as pleasure was fascinating. The slow burn that Peter got so impatient with, was nothing but extended rapture for Stiles. 

Peter’s knuckles worked across the heat inside, the pads of his fingers caressing as they moved. He treated his own body as he would Stiles, putting the intensity of his love into every movement. He scissored his fingers carefully, feeling the pull inside, and brought his other hand back to his cock. The moment he touched it, Stiles whispered  _ “fuck.” _ Peter smirked and adjusted his thighs, getting ready to add a third. 

Just as the burn of the third finger started, Stiles moaned out “God I wish that was your cock.” 

Peter’s rhythm didn’t fumble, but it was a near thing. He immediately put more attention on the mouth below him, Stiles’ flushed cheeks and glassy eyes speaking volumes about how unaware his words were. 

“I want it. I want your actual dick in me, fuck, just- your fingers are amazing, but nothing fills me up like your cock,” he babbled. “It’s like it was made to fit me perfectly, I can always feel every inch, every push in, every pull out- god,  _ Peter-“ _

Stiles’ hand finally returned beneath the sheet, gripping his own cock to begin slowly jacking it. 

Peter gasped; the new sensation concurrent with the feeling from his own hand was indescribable. He changed his rhythm so that he was at the root when Stiles was at the head and vice versa.

As though coordinated beforehand, they both picked up speed. The hand Peter was using to finger himself became more focused, and with some effort he finally found what he was looking for. 

As expected, Stiles groaned “Yes, yes yes yes, harder-“ 

And here was where their tastes perfectly aligned: in their need for a fast, punishing end, being taken apart by so much sensation that it became impossible to resist the crest. 

Stiles was so close, the dual slide on his cock nearly his undoing. But he had to try one more-

His other hand slid down under his thigh and reached between his legs. He pressed two dry fingers to his own tightly closed hole and immediately came, flying apart at the seams.

Peter was taken by surprise by their orgasm (orgasms? It felt like one, but intense enough for two.) The rough fucking of his own fingers, combined with the firm pressure around the outside rim that must have come from Stiles- it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. 

He slumped over, only remembering to go to the side at the last minute. They lay there, panting for a moment as they came down from their combined high. 

“God I wish I could give you a high five right now,” Stiles said eventually. “That was so high five worthy. That was high  _ ten _ worthy. If feet counted I would give you a high twenty.”

Peter grinned. “Yes, I am spectacular.”

“I can’t even try to pull back your ego, you deserve it tonight. That orgasm opened up a new chapter of our lives.”

Peter chuckled and looked over at his mate. 

Stiles smiled back, dimming a little as he realized he couldn’t roll over into Peter’s arms. He set his jaw firmly. 

“Fuck it.” 

The next thing Peter knew, Stiles had cocooned himself entirely in the sheet and barreled into Peter’s space. Peter brought his arms up around him, mostly to prevent him from steamrolling right over any important bits, and Stiles immediately settled down. A moment later, his eyes and nose popped out of an opening in the cocoon. 

“We’re sleeping like this. Deal with it.” 

“What happens if you unroll from the sheet in the middle of the night?”

“I’m not going to unroll from the sheet in the middle of the night.”

“But what if you do?” Peter insisted.

“I won’t,” Stiles said stubbornly. 

“You-”

“Too late, I’m asleep.” And truly, for all appearances, he was. His breathing evened out, mouth open a fraction, heartbeat slowed. 

Peter sighed and tugged him closer. He probably wouldn’t unroll. 

 

____________________

 

Stiles unrolled. 

It was fine though, because apparently the curse was broken by the morning. 

“Hey! That was only two days! I wonder if the decomposition was sped up by-”

“Jesus  _ Christ _ Stiles, can we please eat breakfast first?” 

Stiles sighed aggrievedly. “I guess. But not before you’ve kissed the hell out of me. You have two days to make up for.” Stiles looked at him expectantly. 

Peter immediately rolled them over, trapping Stiles beneath him and holding his face carefully with hot hands. 

Slowly, he brought his lips to Stiles’ and pressed them together, soft and warm and  _ wonderful. _

They didn’t get to breakfast for another hour. 

**Author's Note:**

> ♪I don't Want A-N-Y Body Else♪  
> ♪When I think aBOUT you I Touch My-SELF♪
> 
> God bless you, Divinyls, doing the Lords work.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed your fucking with a side of feelings!


End file.
